


Clawfoot Tub

by Tomstinkerbell



Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston Fandom
Genre: Bath, Bubbles - Freeform, D/s elements, Erotica, F/M, Indulgences, Orgasms, dominant Tom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 03:24:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5031883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomstinkerbell/pseuds/Tomstinkerbell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A/N:</p><p>NSFW!</p><p>For a friend.  :)</p><p>Just a quick indulgence …</p>
    </blockquote>





	Clawfoot Tub

**Author's Note:**

> A/N:
> 
> NSFW!
> 
> For a friend. :)
> 
> Just a quick indulgence …

Imagine you and Tom are in a sumptuous bedroom somewhere he's brought you that's quite extravagant. You've been separated for a long while as he's been filming and the demands of your own job has kept you from being with him as you usually are, pretty much 24/7, since you telecommute most of the time.

You're finally together after interminable months apart, and last night when you arrived here you didn't even bother with dinner or anything else beyond the melding of your two bodies together, spending the night trying to sate yourselves in each other, with only moderate success; the both of you know that it's going to take more than one night to soothe the ache - body and soul - that being away from each other creates in each of you.

The next morning, you are awakened by his soft, undemanding kisses, and as you roll towards him, seeking his warmth and reveling in the realization that he is there with you and not on a computer screen or your phone, and you can reach out and touch him any time, anywhere you like, you can't suppress a groan as unused muscles complain at the sudden - sometimes almost violent - activities of the night before.

Tom looks at you, concern wrinkling his brow. "Are you okay, my darling? Did I use you too hard?"

"No such thing," you murmur against his chest as he wraps you in his arms, those strong hands rubbing your back and making you groan again, but for a different reason.

You begin to kiss your way up his neck, finding and taking his lips, but he pulls away after a few minutes, making you pout at the loss of him.

But then he stands up next to the bed and reaches down to swing you up into his arms, obviously not suffering the same aches and pains as you are as he walks with you to the middle of the room where there's something you know wasn't there before - since you made love in that exact spot the moment you hit the room, and the trail of clothing you'd shed was still there.

He's surprised you, as he likes very much to do - not necessarily with expensive or extravagant things, because you're not that kind of a girl - but instead he does things - gives you things - that are usually small but very, very thoughtful, and very indicative of his love for you - of how much attention he pays to you - what you do, what you say, what you like.

As he eases you into the wonderfully hot, soapy water and you are surrounded by mounds of bubbles, his voice rumbles into your ears, spreading an acute awareness of him throughout the rest of you. "I remembered how much you'd always wanted to take a bath in a real clawfoot tub, and one of the reasons I chose this place for our little escape was because they offer exactly that amenity, right in the room."

He leans over the tub, over you, balancing precariously - nude - on the side of it, one hand on the far edge, watching you indulgently, yet that spark is definitely in his eye, the one that is never tamped very far down any time he's around you.

He wants you, but he's holding off because he's concerned about you being in pain, not wanting to hurt you any further.

But you want him - regardless of any discomfort, and you reach out to cup him, there, making him start and almost fall in as he rises to fill - then overflow - your palm.

"Join me?" you entreat, biting your lip, hoping he doesn't demure.

He smiles down at you. "But this is for you - this is your fantasy."

You sit up, still holding him, stroking him slowly, "No, you are," you growl, having no idea where that voice came from as you kiss him languidly, in no hurry despite the hunger for him that seethes in the very part of your body that is the most raw and sensitive this morning, having received the majority of his fervent, at times almost savage attentions until just before dawn this morning.

"Are you saying you want me to join you in your bath, my lady?" he asks coyly.

In answer, you wrap your fingers around the back of his neck and pull him down on top of you, some of the suds slopping over the sides as he falls onto you, settling between your legs for a long moment, letting you feel that hardened length against you, almost right where you want him. 

You reach up and grasp those beautiful cheeks of his, trying to pull him down and into you, but he resists, kissing you teasingly, holding himself away from you until, all of a sudden, and with more accompanying sloshing over of soap suds, he inserts himself behind you instead, pulling your back against his front, his knees sticking out of the tub that was the perfect size for you, but not for your Daddy Long-Legs, and the tightness of the two of you in the tub and the way he has them splayed open beneath you forces your shorter ones to drape over his, opening you helplessly to him whether you want to be or not and forcing you even further back against him.

So you end up kind of hung up between those legs, feeling the hard length of him standing firm at the small of your back as his hands begin to wander over you, dragging the wash cloth lazily over points of interest that rise to meet it, even as he deliberately rasps it over tips that have already been left hopelessly, helplessly raw, such that the touch is almost unbearable.

But when you would have covered your nipples with your hands, protecting them from him, he whispers, "Ah - ah - ahhh. That's very naughty. Put your hands on my thighs and don't move them, if you know what's good for you."

As you move to obey him, he abandons the cloth and it's his fingers you feel slipping down your tummy to where you are held apart for him, for just this purpose, you know.

Tender lips at your ear are replaced by the edges of his teeth, nipping sometimes gently and some times not so gently as long, elegantly obscene fingers seek and find exactly what they want, making you gasp and arch at how close you already are, trying unsuccessfully to close your legs against him only to be scolded for doing so.

"No, stay still. I want to touch what's mine and you're not to do anything to interfere. I know how much you like it when I do this to you."

You are just about to dissolve into a puddle at what he's doing to you, so languidly yet so determinedly. He knows exactly how to drive you out of your mind and proceeds to do so with devastating, unrelenting skill, until you are begging him to take you; your pleasure won't quite be complete unless you can feel him inside you.

"Please, Tom - please!" you pant, completely unable to control your responses to him.

You can feel him at your entrance, almost there but not quite, like before. You need him - you need to be filled with him - by him - before those diligent fingers of his bring you any closer to ecstasy.

"Please what, babylove? Tell me what you want me to do," he commands.

"Fuck me. Fuck me please," you mewl, not at all too proud to do so.

And at your words, he does exactly what you want, holding you fast as he splits you with himself, making you cry out in a potent combination of pleasure and pain, staying still for a long moment as he kisses you, letting you become accustomed to him before beginning a rhythm that, along with his fingers floating and teasing their way over your pebble hard clit, brings you swiftly too the edge and keeps you there for long, torturous moments.

Sometimes long association wasn't a good thing - he knew you almost too well, knew all of the tells your body had when your ecstasy was imminent, bringing you almost there then backing off a bit in a wonderfully horrible cycle that made you think you were going to lose your mind.

Finally, he grants you the mercy you've been begging for for the past half hour, dedicating himself to your culmination, and through that achieving his own, holding you tight the way he knows you like, pumping himself in and out of you as he drags three fingertips over you with just the right pressure, just the right touch, feeling your body's gathering storm even as his arms clamp more tightly around you, reminding you subtly that he has the strength and power to force you to submit to him, if need be.

And that's more than enough to set you off, one of his hands coming up to cover your mouth as you manage to stop just shy of screaming but still cum very loudly, moaning and keening as he continues to stimulate you, bringing you to peak after peak before he allows himself his own growling, biting climax, teeth sinking into your nape as his hands grabbing your hips so hard you know that there'll be even more bruises there now.

You lean back against him, his head next to yours as the breath billows out of the two of you, his chest heaving beneath you as you drift slowly back to Earth.

His hard arm squeezes you when you shiver a little.

"Let's get you out of this cold bath and into our warm bed," he whispers, putting actions to words, exiting the tub athletically then lifting you out of it to stand you in the middle of the room and dry you off quickly, then tucking the two of you under the warm sheet and duvet and pulling you into his arms.

"I love you, Mrs. Hiddleston," he murmurs as he cradles you against him.

"I love you, too, Mr. Hiddleston," you say, prompting falling asleep with your head on his chest.


End file.
